Here is a link to my new podcast!
http://popcorn-prattle.podomatic.com/entry/2014-11-08T08_29_50-08_00
Saturday, November 8, 2014
Monday, March 3, 2014
Steven's Door or the Dawn of the Black Daddy Era
Greetings you Poor Devils!!
I take pride in the fact that I have many friends. That being said, I didn't always have a ton of friends. Thanks to getting into theatre, however, I learned how to open up to people and in time developed friends so close that the only suitable name to call them now is family. I have a few friends that are closer than others and I believe that for them, our friendships were forged in flames.
What do I mean? I'm so glad you asked!
I think the strongest relationships I have had with my friends have gone through some storms. Not as many as you might think, but one good storm that would make someone question how the hell we remained friends. Perhaps, in time, I will share those other stories, but for now I want to share the story of the storm weathered by myself and my good friend, Steven.
I met Steven in college my Freshmen year. Right off the back, I thought he was the weirdest person in the world. However, being in theatre, I'm used to dealing with strange individuals. One thing I remember about Steven back then was that he was very opinionated. I always equated this to the fact that Steven was home schooled for most of his life. Now, Steven lived on the same floor as my roommate Sam and myself. Sam was the reason we even knew the other existed in the first place as he introduced us.
For the longest time during those first few months of college, you would always find Sam, Steven and myself walking around the campus or eating in the cafeteria together. You may have also seen a young boy and girl walking with us too, named Corey and Cami (respectively). I was still trying to find myself in college and figure out what type of friends I wanted to associate with. These four seemed to act the most like my old theatre friends so there was no question as to whether or not I should hang out with them. We were all very close with one another and, as most friends do, we learned much about each others private lives. No to go into too much detail, but Cami was having troubles with her boyfriend. We all thought she was making the wrong decision by not moving on, but I was going through a partial "let everyone handle their own affairs"-phase of my life.
Little did I know that the Black Daddy Era would soon take effect.
I've always been a bit of a protector to my female friends. I like to think that people know that if a female friend of mine is being harassed, I will most likely be there to:
Never has that fact been more true than in this particular moment with Steven. I was not there when Steven was being an "ass." I was in my dorm room in what I affectionately call: "Lawless Lawton." It was Sam who informed me what happened. He came in from the cold shaking his head in disbelief. I was ironing clothes that I had just washed.
"What's wrong, Sam?" I asked.
"You would not believe the craziness that just happened!" he cried. "Steven made Cami cry!"
Immediately I was hooked. Steven made Cami cry? I knew that he openly disliked that Cami was still in love with her ex, but to make her cry? This seemed a little extreme, even for Steven. I needed more information to which Sam faithfully relayed to me. Steven, Cami, Sam and Corey were eating dinner in the cafeteria. Everything was going well when Cami started talking about her boyfriend (a habit she had developed at every meal). Steven, who apparently had enough of these talks, told Cami that she needed to get over her boyfriend and that she was too good for him. He tried explaining that she wasn't doing anyone any favors by continuing to talk about him and that she was driving everyone crazy with all her talk.
Like I said. Steven's very opinionated.
Well, needless to say that Cami didn't take too kindly to this talk and began to cry. Steven, not being used to this type of stuff, ran away from the table where Cami began to complain about Steven. How mean he was, how insensitive he was being and, most importantly, how weird he was.
When Sam finished his story I had a strong desire to right this wrong (regardless if I knew the FULL story or not).
Thus, the Black Daddy persona was created. I threw on my leather jacket, turned off my iron and darted out of the room to find Steven. Steven didn't leave his room often except at night when he would walk around the campus so I knew he would be home. Sam followed behind me, anxious to see what would happen to his two friends. I arrived in his hall and heard the soft clicking of computer keys.
I knew he was there.
I banged on the door, preparing myself for what would come next.
Would I fight him? What would I say to him? I needed confirmation first before I did anything drastic.
I knocked on the door again and this time, he answered. The door cracked open just a little bit so he could see who it was fully. When he realized it was Sam and I, he smiled and simply said "Evening, gents!"
In that moment all I could think about was how weird he was and how SOMEONE needed to shut him up. I felt like "The Bride" from Kill Bill seeing her first victim in Vol. 1.
And just like Uma Thurman, I pounced. In a blur, I lifted my leg and kicked his door in.
Yup. You read that correctly. I legitimately kicked his door in and sent him reeling backward. Steven was momentarily stunned, but laughed it off not realizing my annoyance with him.
"What did you say to Cami?!" I exclaimed.
Steven scoffed. "Don't talk to ME about Cami!" Now, in my defense, he should not have opened with that. To me, he seemed guilty as hell. If he was trying to help Cami, he could have told me exactly what he said and defused the situation. Instead, Steven unintentionally antagonized the situation and myself.
Steven, took a deep breath. "Now, care to sit down?"
"You sit down!" I exclaimed. He sat.
For the next ten minutes I laid into him about how he had no right to make Cami cry and how that for the duration of our time at Anderson, he was to have no words for Cami concerning her boyfriend. When I was done yelling at him, I took my leave and slammed the door behind me to let him think about what he had done.
I felt good and empowered. At the time, I didn't care if Steven liked me or not. I told him off and the honor of a young woman had been restored. In the following months, Cami later renewed her relationship with her ex and dropped out of school. My friendship with Corey slowly dissolved and Steven and I's relationship had become one of constant bickering and resentment towards one another. It wasn't until Sophomore year that Steven and I slowly became friends. REAL friends and not just acquaintances. We both were drafted by the theatre department that year and began our new journey as Double Majors. The year after that, we were cast as father and son in the drama All My Sons by Arthur Miller where we learned that when he and I are onstage with one another there is a certain level of theatrical magic that hypnotizes audiences and makes he and I both realize why we did theatre in the first place. He is truly my brother and through the years we have had each other's back even to this day. He even made me the Best Man at his wedding! I had never been prouder to stand by him as he committed his life to the girl of his dreams.
As I close, I want you to appreciate those days when you and your friends do not always get along. It is those times when you and your friends really decide if you are to remain together. If your friendship is worth it, you will make it through the storm and be stronger than ever. And when you do make it through, you'll realize that the person you call friend is not just your friend.
They are your brother. Your sister. Your family.
I take pride in the fact that I have many friends. That being said, I didn't always have a ton of friends. Thanks to getting into theatre, however, I learned how to open up to people and in time developed friends so close that the only suitable name to call them now is family. I have a few friends that are closer than others and I believe that for them, our friendships were forged in flames.
What do I mean? I'm so glad you asked!
I think the strongest relationships I have had with my friends have gone through some storms. Not as many as you might think, but one good storm that would make someone question how the hell we remained friends. Perhaps, in time, I will share those other stories, but for now I want to share the story of the storm weathered by myself and my good friend, Steven.
I met Steven in college my Freshmen year. Right off the back, I thought he was the weirdest person in the world. However, being in theatre, I'm used to dealing with strange individuals. One thing I remember about Steven back then was that he was very opinionated. I always equated this to the fact that Steven was home schooled for most of his life. Now, Steven lived on the same floor as my roommate Sam and myself. Sam was the reason we even knew the other existed in the first place as he introduced us.
For the longest time during those first few months of college, you would always find Sam, Steven and myself walking around the campus or eating in the cafeteria together. You may have also seen a young boy and girl walking with us too, named Corey and Cami (respectively). I was still trying to find myself in college and figure out what type of friends I wanted to associate with. These four seemed to act the most like my old theatre friends so there was no question as to whether or not I should hang out with them. We were all very close with one another and, as most friends do, we learned much about each others private lives. No to go into too much detail, but Cami was having troubles with her boyfriend. We all thought she was making the wrong decision by not moving on, but I was going through a partial "let everyone handle their own affairs"-phase of my life.
Little did I know that the Black Daddy Era would soon take effect.
I've always been a bit of a protector to my female friends. I like to think that people know that if a female friend of mine is being harassed, I will most likely be there to:
"Boots 2 Asses"- Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson.
Never has that fact been more true than in this particular moment with Steven. I was not there when Steven was being an "ass." I was in my dorm room in what I affectionately call: "Lawless Lawton." It was Sam who informed me what happened. He came in from the cold shaking his head in disbelief. I was ironing clothes that I had just washed.
"What's wrong, Sam?" I asked.
"You would not believe the craziness that just happened!" he cried. "Steven made Cami cry!"
Immediately I was hooked. Steven made Cami cry? I knew that he openly disliked that Cami was still in love with her ex, but to make her cry? This seemed a little extreme, even for Steven. I needed more information to which Sam faithfully relayed to me. Steven, Cami, Sam and Corey were eating dinner in the cafeteria. Everything was going well when Cami started talking about her boyfriend (a habit she had developed at every meal). Steven, who apparently had enough of these talks, told Cami that she needed to get over her boyfriend and that she was too good for him. He tried explaining that she wasn't doing anyone any favors by continuing to talk about him and that she was driving everyone crazy with all her talk.
Like I said. Steven's very opinionated.
Well, needless to say that Cami didn't take too kindly to this talk and began to cry. Steven, not being used to this type of stuff, ran away from the table where Cami began to complain about Steven. How mean he was, how insensitive he was being and, most importantly, how weird he was.
When Sam finished his story I had a strong desire to right this wrong (regardless if I knew the FULL story or not).
Thus, the Black Daddy persona was created. I threw on my leather jacket, turned off my iron and darted out of the room to find Steven. Steven didn't leave his room often except at night when he would walk around the campus so I knew he would be home. Sam followed behind me, anxious to see what would happen to his two friends. I arrived in his hall and heard the soft clicking of computer keys.
I knew he was there.
I banged on the door, preparing myself for what would come next.
Would I fight him? What would I say to him? I needed confirmation first before I did anything drastic.
I knocked on the door again and this time, he answered. The door cracked open just a little bit so he could see who it was fully. When he realized it was Sam and I, he smiled and simply said "Evening, gents!"
In that moment all I could think about was how weird he was and how SOMEONE needed to shut him up. I felt like "The Bride" from Kill Bill seeing her first victim in Vol. 1.
And just like Uma Thurman, I pounced. In a blur, I lifted my leg and kicked his door in.
Yup. You read that correctly. I legitimately kicked his door in and sent him reeling backward. Steven was momentarily stunned, but laughed it off not realizing my annoyance with him.
"What did you say to Cami?!" I exclaimed.
Steven scoffed. "Don't talk to ME about Cami!" Now, in my defense, he should not have opened with that. To me, he seemed guilty as hell. If he was trying to help Cami, he could have told me exactly what he said and defused the situation. Instead, Steven unintentionally antagonized the situation and myself.
Steven, took a deep breath. "Now, care to sit down?"
"You sit down!" I exclaimed. He sat.
For the next ten minutes I laid into him about how he had no right to make Cami cry and how that for the duration of our time at Anderson, he was to have no words for Cami concerning her boyfriend. When I was done yelling at him, I took my leave and slammed the door behind me to let him think about what he had done.
I felt good and empowered. At the time, I didn't care if Steven liked me or not. I told him off and the honor of a young woman had been restored. In the following months, Cami later renewed her relationship with her ex and dropped out of school. My friendship with Corey slowly dissolved and Steven and I's relationship had become one of constant bickering and resentment towards one another. It wasn't until Sophomore year that Steven and I slowly became friends. REAL friends and not just acquaintances. We both were drafted by the theatre department that year and began our new journey as Double Majors. The year after that, we were cast as father and son in the drama All My Sons by Arthur Miller where we learned that when he and I are onstage with one another there is a certain level of theatrical magic that hypnotizes audiences and makes he and I both realize why we did theatre in the first place. He is truly my brother and through the years we have had each other's back even to this day. He even made me the Best Man at his wedding! I had never been prouder to stand by him as he committed his life to the girl of his dreams.
As I close, I want you to appreciate those days when you and your friends do not always get along. It is those times when you and your friends really decide if you are to remain together. If your friendship is worth it, you will make it through the storm and be stronger than ever. And when you do make it through, you'll realize that the person you call friend is not just your friend.
They are your brother. Your sister. Your family.
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Black History Blues
Hello Poor Devils!
Thank you for returning to read my blog! I've gotten a lot of positive feedback as I continue and try to think of topics that will uplift and inspire. If you are new to my blog, welcome! Since we are now in the month of February, I see no reason that my blogs should consist of topics surrounding Black History or Love. Based on the title, you no doubt have already realized that you are now sitting in the metaphorical pulpit of a topic that is near and dear to my heart: Black History Month.
It was February of 2001. I was in middle school at the time and just starting to discover who I was as a person. I was not the best in school. As a matter of fact, I was down right awful until my 8th grade year when I started to take my studies more seriously. I was in U.S. history at the time and, being February, my teacher, Mr. Fry, decided to dedicate the month to learning about black history. Mr. Fry was a white man, but he knew all there was about black history. I admired his knowledge and I knew that I wanted to show that I knew just as much as him. Mr. Fry began asking a few questions about black history based on the reading we had just done. I immediately raised my hand and promptly answered. Mr. Fry gave me a pat on the back and continued asking questions.
I was on fire. Every question he asked, I had the right answer as well as more insight in the situation. Malcolm X. Rosa Parks. Dr. King. Marcus Garvey. The Birmingham Campaign. The Freedom Riders. I knew it all!
As I answered the questions, I noticed that many of my peers who were, for the most part black, shot me dirty looks. Mr. Fry asked another question and before I could answer, he forbade me from answering anything else. The classroom was silent for a good two minutes before Mr. Fry spoke.
"This is YOUR history," he said. "Do you honestly mean to tell me that Marcus is the only one knows YOUR history?"
As you can see, I've never forgotten those words. In that moment, I too found it pathetic. Here was Mr. Fry, a WHITE man, who knew more about Black History than the future generation! It was on that day, that I decided that on top of acting, I wanted to become a teacher of history and be able to teach black kids our history. During an assignment, I told Mr. Fry what I decided and he was honestly proud. To him, he had reached one of his students and set them on a path that would be the driving force when people tried to bring them down. However, the class heard me. And from that day on, I was the black kid trying to act white.That's right. You read that correctly. The BLACK kid who wanted to learn more about his history was acting WHITE. Folks, I have heard that phrase my entire life. Most of the time it's because of how I talk. I "talk" like a white guy. My apologies, but that is an insult to all blacks everywhere when you say that I "sound" like a white guy.
"Why", you may ask? Well, let's look at the facts. I don't say anything that is associated with being white because I'm NOT white. I speak properly, yes. I enunciate my words. I like to use more "advanced" words that I have learned to express myself. Is this really sounding white? Or merely speaking with intelligence? I like to think the latter. When I hear what "sounding" black is, it is a wonder that people have not caught on yet to the subtle racism laced in those words. Sounding black would mean that I have to use smaller words, barely understand what I'm saying and essentially have no desire to advance myself in society (oops! Sorry. Used another big word). Have we really done this to ourselves? Have we honestly decided to limit ourselves in the way of education and intelligence? I'm sorry, but I cannot allow myself to speak ignorantly just so I can even be accepted by my own race. I want to be seen as a MAN. Not by the color of my skin. That is not what my forefathers fought for. We claim we want equal rights and yet we want to reinforce the stereotype that we are not intelligent.
Now I know, some people may be getting mad at me for saying that while others may not truly understand where I am coming from. To me? It doesn't matter. I have to say these things, because I need to speak for those blacks who are proud of their heritage and want to see their people do well, but who are put down by both whites who will never see them as equals and blacks who feel they are trying to emulate white culture. The true question here is: what is BLACK CULTURE?
Is it BET?
Is it the Steve Harvey Morning Show?
Is it Black Churches?
Is it Rap Music?
Is it Tyler Perry?
Do we even know anymore?
My belief is that we knew what our culture was, but that has since passed away. We have embraced a culture that is not our own, but one that is commercialized and stereotypical. And the thing is (get ready readers), it is not the white man's fault! That's right! I said it!
Sure, racism played a big part in how we got to this point in our lives. And absolutely yes, racism is STILL a big part of our lives today. But when a child tells their parents that their teacher is a racist because they failed a test that they didn't study for, where is the racism then? Racism is being used as an excuse on why we can't achieve when, in actuality, we can't achieve because we are not choosing to. The sad part of it is this: our children are learning that racism is an excuse when they fail instead of accepting the possibility that maybe they failed that test because they didn't study or they were talking in class. Maybe my middle school peers would have known those questions too had they read the night before. Maybe I wouldn't be seen as an "Uncle Tom" had my peers simply done the assigned reading as I had.
Who knows?
What I do know is this: we, the black community, have got to stop making excuses. We need to accept that our fight for equality is not over yet, but it is a battle that can be won. In my time as an actor, I have played countless roles that were not supposed to be for black men. But I showed my directors that I am just as good if not better than a white actor and that by the time I was done you would not longer see my dark skin. You would see a man full of talent and hope. I have no doubt that I am first judged by the color of my skin, but I do not let me skin color define who I am as a human being. I am Marcus. Nothing more. Nothing less.
When you walk down the street....what do you think people see?
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
The first post! or "The Thoroughly Modern Millie Affair"
Hello you Poor Devils!
My name is Marc Laroy and welcome to my first blog! I am a drama teacher who loves to help inspire his students with exciting anecdotes. In the 25 years I have been on this Earth, I have experienced many things: love, loss, excitements, chills, spills and everything in between. Recently, I had to have a discussion with my students about what it meant to be a leader. My colleague opened and, as a means to back up and support her, I began to tell my students a story. In the two years that they have known me, my students realize one thing: I have a story for everything! However, many students will tell you that my stories always have a lesson to go along with it. Some are deep and profound while others are probably more enjoyment than anything else. It occurred to me that stories, like the one I told my students the other day, could help people from making horrible choices or at least understand what their decision might lead to. So I asked myself;
"Why should my students be the only ones who benefit from my stories?"
And so, here I am, on this day off from school, to write my first entry and my first story.
As you will learn, I am an currently a part time actor. I have every intention of going back into acting full time, but I made a promise to God a long time ago that I would help kids they way that I needed help and guidance when I was younger (a story I shall share later, I'm sure).
My story begins a year before the "affair" actually happens when, at Anderson University, my mentor, Dr. Mac, decided to announce next year's season. I was a 2nd year senior due to my double major, so I was anxious to hear what the next season would be! We would start with the musical Thoroughly Modern Millie, a play called As it is In Heaven, An unknown "black play" (She never called it a black play. I called it that because...that's what it was supposed to be. It ended up being the 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee), and to end with Macbeth (which I jumped in the air in excitement over... I was the ONLY one who jumped for excitement). The air was full of buzz, but not over Macbeth or As it is in Heaven, but over Thoroughly Modern Millie. I had no idea what the play was about other than the fact that it was a musical.
I despise Musicals.
Not that THAT is out of the way, let me explain. I don't REALLY "despise" musicals. I just hate how they are directed. I don't think I've ever learned anything from a musical other than that they are hard and, at times, fun once the show is in full swing. My mentor, ironically, loved musicals and to this day is still making Anderson musical theatre department a gem of the south. I had been at Anderson for quite some time and I knew that it would be all hands on deck for our female dominated (about 80-90%) department.
The lead-in to the auditions is where our story TRULY takes place. The girls were so convinced that one of them would be Millie that you would think she was the ONLY girl in the whole play. For those of you who don't know the plot here is a condensed version: a country girl comes to NYC in order to meet the (rich) man of her dreams. She thinks she's found the man, but starts to develop feelings for a (poor) man. Millie is torn, but ultimately decides to go with the poor man because she realizes that it doesn't matter how much money you have because love conquers all........ Until the end when the man reveals that he actually is rich probably making her forget the important lesson she just learned.
To me? I didn't think much of the plot. But what do I know? One of my favorite playwrights wrote Romeo and Juliet (ugh!). But, back to the story!
The girls were becoming very catty with each other to the point that you didn't even recognize some of the female drama majors anymore. All they could think about was how horrible that girl would be if she was Millie and why they were the ONLY person who could perform Millie justice. In the center of this was a friend of mine. For the sake of confidentiality to those who don't know her, as she is an actor, I will simply call her Eliza. Eliza and I were friends since we performed together in the play All My Sons. I thought she was quite talented and I quickly learned how much she had wanted to play Millie. She practiced her singing and tap skills from morning until late at night. She listened to the music and had even come up with a back-story already. If you didn't know, she was already cast! This behavior rubbed a lot of girls the wrong way and soon she was attacked. People thought that she was being presumptuous in thinking she was going to be Millie and, as a result, began a campaign to tear her down by speaking cruelly behind her back.
The girls of our department were known to choose sides and sadly for Eliza, she was left in the cold with no one. Not to say that she was a saint in all this. A person can only take so much hate before they will feel the need to retaliate. As Eliza's stock fell, the mob attacked whichever girl seemed to rise. After a while, every girl was left as hurt as Eliza and, to prove them wrong, every girl worked hard to try and become cast as Millie.
In the midst of all this was my (little) baby sister. She was not really my sister at all, but since her Freshmen year I took it upon myself to have her back. My sister wanted to be cast as Millie as well, but I never heard much from her (whether because she honestly said nothing or because I didn't want to is beyond me), but when it came time for auditions she was the one who was cast in the end!
Sadly the story does not have a truly happy ending. You see, folks, when you're that mean and hateful for so long towards people you called friends, the dynamic of whatever group you're in changes. People don't trust as easily or they no longer stay friends. During the production of the play, people of the cast could still see and feel the remnants of hurt feelings and disdain for one another. Sure, the show ended up being a huge hit, but at what cost? The unity of a strong group of friends had been broken and in its place, factions had arisen that seemed to rear its ugly head at every audition.
Audience, I don't expect you to love the people you work with. But there are few things in life that you will accomplish something solely by yourself. You need your friends or, at the very least, co-workers to stand with you in order to complete what is laid out before you. Be proud of the fact that you were a part of something great not that you assisted in making something vile. I know, it's hard when so many people are around you saying hurtful things and you don't want attention turned on you, but one thing myself and a few others wished we had done was step in more instead of waiting for people see what they were doing was wrong.
Moral:
My name is Marc Laroy and welcome to my first blog! I am a drama teacher who loves to help inspire his students with exciting anecdotes. In the 25 years I have been on this Earth, I have experienced many things: love, loss, excitements, chills, spills and everything in between. Recently, I had to have a discussion with my students about what it meant to be a leader. My colleague opened and, as a means to back up and support her, I began to tell my students a story. In the two years that they have known me, my students realize one thing: I have a story for everything! However, many students will tell you that my stories always have a lesson to go along with it. Some are deep and profound while others are probably more enjoyment than anything else. It occurred to me that stories, like the one I told my students the other day, could help people from making horrible choices or at least understand what their decision might lead to. So I asked myself;
"Why should my students be the only ones who benefit from my stories?"
And so, here I am, on this day off from school, to write my first entry and my first story.
As you will learn, I am an currently a part time actor. I have every intention of going back into acting full time, but I made a promise to God a long time ago that I would help kids they way that I needed help and guidance when I was younger (a story I shall share later, I'm sure).
My story begins a year before the "affair" actually happens when, at Anderson University, my mentor, Dr. Mac, decided to announce next year's season. I was a 2nd year senior due to my double major, so I was anxious to hear what the next season would be! We would start with the musical Thoroughly Modern Millie, a play called As it is In Heaven, An unknown "black play" (She never called it a black play. I called it that because...that's what it was supposed to be. It ended up being the 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee), and to end with Macbeth (which I jumped in the air in excitement over... I was the ONLY one who jumped for excitement). The air was full of buzz, but not over Macbeth or As it is in Heaven, but over Thoroughly Modern Millie. I had no idea what the play was about other than the fact that it was a musical.
I despise Musicals.
Not that THAT is out of the way, let me explain. I don't REALLY "despise" musicals. I just hate how they are directed. I don't think I've ever learned anything from a musical other than that they are hard and, at times, fun once the show is in full swing. My mentor, ironically, loved musicals and to this day is still making Anderson musical theatre department a gem of the south. I had been at Anderson for quite some time and I knew that it would be all hands on deck for our female dominated (about 80-90%) department.
The lead-in to the auditions is where our story TRULY takes place. The girls were so convinced that one of them would be Millie that you would think she was the ONLY girl in the whole play. For those of you who don't know the plot here is a condensed version: a country girl comes to NYC in order to meet the (rich) man of her dreams. She thinks she's found the man, but starts to develop feelings for a (poor) man. Millie is torn, but ultimately decides to go with the poor man because she realizes that it doesn't matter how much money you have because love conquers all........ Until the end when the man reveals that he actually is rich probably making her forget the important lesson she just learned.
To me? I didn't think much of the plot. But what do I know? One of my favorite playwrights wrote Romeo and Juliet (ugh!). But, back to the story!
The girls were becoming very catty with each other to the point that you didn't even recognize some of the female drama majors anymore. All they could think about was how horrible that girl would be if she was Millie and why they were the ONLY person who could perform Millie justice. In the center of this was a friend of mine. For the sake of confidentiality to those who don't know her, as she is an actor, I will simply call her Eliza. Eliza and I were friends since we performed together in the play All My Sons. I thought she was quite talented and I quickly learned how much she had wanted to play Millie. She practiced her singing and tap skills from morning until late at night. She listened to the music and had even come up with a back-story already. If you didn't know, she was already cast! This behavior rubbed a lot of girls the wrong way and soon she was attacked. People thought that she was being presumptuous in thinking she was going to be Millie and, as a result, began a campaign to tear her down by speaking cruelly behind her back.
The girls of our department were known to choose sides and sadly for Eliza, she was left in the cold with no one. Not to say that she was a saint in all this. A person can only take so much hate before they will feel the need to retaliate. As Eliza's stock fell, the mob attacked whichever girl seemed to rise. After a while, every girl was left as hurt as Eliza and, to prove them wrong, every girl worked hard to try and become cast as Millie.
In the midst of all this was my (little) baby sister. She was not really my sister at all, but since her Freshmen year I took it upon myself to have her back. My sister wanted to be cast as Millie as well, but I never heard much from her (whether because she honestly said nothing or because I didn't want to is beyond me), but when it came time for auditions she was the one who was cast in the end!
Sadly the story does not have a truly happy ending. You see, folks, when you're that mean and hateful for so long towards people you called friends, the dynamic of whatever group you're in changes. People don't trust as easily or they no longer stay friends. During the production of the play, people of the cast could still see and feel the remnants of hurt feelings and disdain for one another. Sure, the show ended up being a huge hit, but at what cost? The unity of a strong group of friends had been broken and in its place, factions had arisen that seemed to rear its ugly head at every audition.
Audience, I don't expect you to love the people you work with. But there are few things in life that you will accomplish something solely by yourself. You need your friends or, at the very least, co-workers to stand with you in order to complete what is laid out before you. Be proud of the fact that you were a part of something great not that you assisted in making something vile. I know, it's hard when so many people are around you saying hurtful things and you don't want attention turned on you, but one thing myself and a few others wished we had done was step in more instead of waiting for people see what they were doing was wrong.
Moral:
"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing." (Edmund Burke)
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